


the haunted walls of the wesninski house

by hiraethia



Series: buzzfeed unsolved inspired [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Aaron as Brave Cameraman, Alternate Universe, Andrew as Shane, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Buzzfeed Unsolved Fusion, Ghosts, Investigations, Kevin as Ryan, M/M, Renee as Father Thomas, Supernatural Elements, Tags to be added, andrew is slightly more talkative, but the jokes will make up for it, buzzfeed unsolved au, formatted like a bfu episode, ghost!neil, hopefully
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-06-28 19:32:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15713658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethia/pseuds/hiraethia
Summary: Big Bad Butcher took an ax,Gave his poor wife forty whacks.When his son saw what he'd done,Nathan gave him forty-one."That's rough.""Andrew, you could at leastpretendyou're slightly fucking terrified.""It's interesting. Not scary."(or the one where kevin tries to convince andrew that ghosts are real, andrew keeps shooting him down, aaron's done with their bantering, and nathaniel is just chilling).rhyme adapted from the lizzie borden rhyme.





	1. Chapter 1

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we investigate the infamous Wesninski House in Baltimore, Maryland as part of our ongoing investigation into the question: are ghosts real?”

Andrew could feel Kevin side-eyeing him as he did his intro, but he just focused on his brother behind the camera. Aaron raised his eyebrows, though there was a faint look of amusement on his face.

"This episode we will also be joined later by a very special guest - you may remember her from our episode last season, Reverend Renee," Kevin continued. "Hopefully she'll be able to provide insight and guidance for us, as  _someone_ refuses to follow directions."

Andrew raised his eyebrow but let his friend continue on his intro, only staring intently at Aaron as he adjusted the lights and focus. Already his brother was armed with his night-vision camera and go-pros, flashlight in one hand while the other tinkered with the controls of the main video camera. 

Motioning around himself, Kevin added, “There’s a lot of - bloody history tied to this house. Three stories tall, with dark walls, hidden rooms, and rather antique furniture, it looks like your classic haunted house. There’s no telling how many spirits reside here today, a fitting location for our season finale.” Kevin glanced at Andrew. “Any thoughts, Mr. Skeptic?”

Andrew shrugged. “Tell me the history, Mr. Gullible.”

Kevin rolled his eyes as Aaron stifled a snort behind the camera. “Alright,” he said, taking a deep breath. He grabbed the file in his lap and dramatically flipped it open.

“Let’s get into it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! SOME THINGS!!
> 
> \- yes i know i have 100000 other wips right now, this has been an idea i had for a while and it was aboutta get deleted by ao3 tmrw so i'm just posting it now :D  
> \- i do have most of it planned out already but i will try my best to rotate updates w my other ongoing fics (the main ones being fugue in red and perhaps we're just humans)  
> \- LET ME HAVE THIS OK I LOVE BUZZFEED UNSOLVED AND AFTG TOO MUCH TO NOT WRITE THIS (this will def be darker and angstier than the actual series but it's gon be fun!!! don't worry i'll take care of ya)
> 
> if you enjoyed this pls leave me kudos/comments!! i thrive off of them <3 <3 and see you NEXT UPDATE on whichever of the 12039809 fics i have


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nathan wesninski's criminal history.
> 
>  **warnings** : mentions of animal cruelty, violence, implied child abuse, nathan is a warning himself, discussion of andrew's past but not in detail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i said, this (at least the next couple of chapters) will be formatted like a buzzfeed unsolved episode. which means it'll jump around between voiceovers and actual scenes a lot - it should read fine! just imagine it's a youtube video :D

_Kevin: The Wesninski House was previously owned by the notorious serial killer Nathan Wesninski, responsible for over fifty deaths in this area alone - deaths which include his own family. Described by many to have auburn hair and chilling blue eyes, Wesninski was a terrifying force throughout Baltimore, Maryland. He was nicknamed the Butcher of Baltimore, for the brutality and gruesomeness of his killings. The last time he was seen anywhere was in 1968, before he disappeared without a trace._

_Andrew: So is his disappearance also a cold case?_

_Kevin: Uh - I guess you could say that, yeah. But the FBI did make a statement a couple years ago that the search was called off. They literally couldn't find a sign of this guy anywhere. He can't be alive anymore, though._

_Andrew: It has been half a century._

_Kevin: Yeah. He'd have to be at least ninety years old by now,_ if  _he's still alive. I mean, we could always revisit him for another True Crime episode._

_Andrew: Maybe now's the time for one of your alien abduction theories._

_Kevin: You - (wheeze). Fuck you._

_Andrew: Fuck you too._

_Kevin:_ _Just for context's sake, we're going to take a bit of a deep dive into his past, which_  may  _explain just why this house seems to be so haunted. Here's just a few of his most notorious killings. Unfortunately, there are far too many to talk about in just one sitting._

_Andrew: Do go on._

\--

"I don't like this already," Kevin was muttering, shining his flashlight across the furniture. The floorboards creaked obnoxiously under their feet, which Andrew didn't quite appreciate. He always liked to tread lightly, paranormal investigations or not. It helped that people didn't know where he was going.

But the house was nice, he supposed. The furniture was indeed old as fuck, something that an antique-enthusiast would probably piss themselves to get their hands on. All the curtains were drawn, which would've encased them in complete darkness if it hadn't been for their flashlights. Andrew paused at the entrance of the living room, flicking his light about. 

It looked oddly un-lived in. Like the house had been built by some bored, emasculated architect, and then left alone to stand tall forever. Andrew almost would've believed that, except for the fact that it was  _ruined._

Between the stupid graffiti from explorers desperate from views and the inevitably washed-out bloodstains spattering the walls, Andrew figured it was safe to say that it was for the better that no one tried living here again.

Still, he could hardly believe there was a family here once - even if the father was some deranged killer.

"So," Andrew said just when his partner started looking a little too freaked out. "This looks nice."

" _God fuck_ , we're spending the night here," Kevin groaned.

"There he goes again," Andrew said, looking straight at the camera. Aaron rolled his eyes, shaking his head, before shutting off the video and lowering it.

"Let's move back into the living room," he said, before turning around and heading down the elongated hallways without looking back. Andrew followed his brother, not needing to look back to ensure Kevin was right behind him.

\--

 _Kevin:_   _On November 3rd, 1948, Wesninski's first victim was found, a thirty-seven year-old man named Aleks Kowalczyk. The body was discovered in a ditch just on the outskirts of Baltimore, nearly mutilated beyond recognition. The hands were cut off, presumably to prevent the police from finding fingerprints, and the skin was almost completely flayed. The only reason Kowalczyk was identified was because of the fact that he'd gone missing just a couple weeks before, and Wesninski hadn't completely destroyed everything identifiable about him._

_Andrew: Meaning?_

_Kevin: Forgot to take his wallet._

_Andrew: You know, I bet you're butchering that name right now._

_Kevin: No, Andrew. Do not - (wheeze) you just went there._

_Andrew: People harp on you all the time for fucking up pronunciations._

_Kevin: Christ, that's besides the point!_

_Andrew: Okay, go on then._

\--

"So the first guy," Andrew said once they'd settled down on the couches by the ashen fireplace. "He was discovered in a ditch, barely identifiable. How did he get linked back to the Butcher?"

"The hack job," Kevin replied. "He got named the  _Butcher_  for a reason. He'd cut off his victim's limbs, most likely with either an ax or a cleaver. The more victims that were discovered, the more links the police were able to draw between the killing methods."

"I mean, if you're going to kill someone," Andrew said, glancing back into the camera, "might as well have a fun little thing going on."

" _Jesus Christ_ , Andrew."

" _The Butcher_ is a cool nickname."

Kevin raised his eyebrows incredulously. "You carry around knives all the time. What would your serial killer name be, then?"

"I don't know."

"Knife Boy?"

"I'll call myself whatever the fuck I want."

Kevin was about to reply when something creaked loudly above them. He nearly jumped out of his skin as Andrew stifled a snort, and then shone his flashlight at the ceiling like that would've helped.

"What the  _fuck_ was that?" he demanded, voice already going high-pitched.

"The house is old," Andrew said.

"That was way too loud."

"A strong draft."

Kevin ran his hands through his hair as he struggled to compose himself. Andrew crossed one leg over the other, tapping his fingers against his knee.

"No ghouls just yet," he said, eyes flickering up to the dusty ceiling.

\--

_Kevin: Like I said before, between 1948 and 1968, the year of Wesninski disappeared, approximately over fifty murders took place. Kowalczyk was just one of many._

_Andrew: Was there any particular pattern of victims? Or was he a random guy._

_Kevin: I couldn't find much on that. But based on the fact that he did invest in shady businesses before - his financial records were about the only concrete things the FBI could uncover about him, by the way - I'd say he probably targeted those who wronged him or fucked up some money laundering. Which brings me to his two most infamous murders._

_Andrew: Being?_

_Kevin: His wife and his son._

_Andrew: You really cannot go wrong with familicide._

 

_Kevin: Wesninski married a young woman named Mary Hatford in 1950, when he was twenty-two and she was only twenty. Together they had a son named Nathaniel Wesninski in the same year. Keep in mind this took place only 2 years after Wesninski began his killing sprees._

_Andrew: Mhm._

_Kevin: He kept his family out of the public eye as much as he could. The only reason we know about them now is because of photographs and journal entries recovered from Nathaniel's room. Here's just an excerpt from one of them - and be warned, the contents are quite disturbing:_

_Father brought home another woman today. Her name was Lola. She smiles more than Mother does. And she wanted to teach me a lesson._

_She showed me how to gut a dog while it was still alive. She told me to be careful because dogs weren't the same as men, but I should pay attention anyway._

_I can still smell the blood - but at least she hasn't hurt me yet._

_Andrew: How old was he?_

_Kevin: He was only a kid, probably around eight or nine when he wrote this. Like, Jesus fuck Andrew, doesn't this - it's so fucking sick._

_Andrew: It's people, Kevin. People are always the real monsters._

\--

Andrew was a man of few emotions. That was why he clicked so well with Kevin, he supposed. He balanced out Kevin's fiery passion and enthusiasm with cold, blunt truths and practicality. And that generally didn't change; he didn't feel much  _emotional_ attachments to the cases they covered besides interest and intrigue.

There was a reason Andrew didn't believe in ghosts, after all, and it wasn't just because he was a stubborn asshole. It was because he'd seen the true monstrosities in mere humanity - he'd seen it first hand,  _felt_ it first hand. He knew from harsh, brutal experience that people were the worst enemies of people, that nothing was scarier than surrendering all your control over to someone else, not knowing if they were going to shatter it or carve it out  _slowly_ or maybe, just  _maybe_ , take care of it.

He'd gotten better, of course, ever since he and Aaron were adopted by Bee and gotten the job at Buzzfeed thanks to Nicky. But memories were treacherous, after all, and if there was anything he'd learned from any of the cases they'd covered, it was this:

That nothing was more cruel than a demented person.

And the  _only_ ghosts he'd ever believe in were the ghosts of the hands on his body during the broken late nights, the ghosts of old families and opportunities that had let him slip by, and the ghosts of his past that he was finally beginning to learn to put behind him for good.

He didn't tell Kevin or any of the viewers any of this, obviously. He was fine with leaving his most broken and twisted parts behind him.

Well, he  _was_ okay now. He had a job he liked (which he would never admit, not even on his deathbed), he got to work alongside his friend (another thing he'd probably never voice out loud), and he and his brother were safe. 

And they were healing. As disastrous and chaotic as the whole process was, they were well on their way to  _some_ form of okay-ness that years ago, Andrew never would've dreamed of having at all.

But it was cases like this that reawakened the monster sleeping between Andrew's ribs. The familiar  _nothing is redeemable_ crawling up his throat like bile. 

He knew that not all children had good lives. He knew that. He knew that he knew that he  _knew_ that, he'd  _lived_ that. There wasn't anything he could do about it.

Yet there he was, sitting on the couch of some ex-serial killer's mansion, listening to Kevin read a traumatized child's diary, wishing he could bring Nathan back to life just so he could kill the bastard himself.

Aaron cleared his throat as Kevin paused in his reading, peering out at Andrew from behind the camera.

"You look like you're spacing out," his brother commented. Andrew blinked slowly, before forcing himself to unclench his fists. 

"I'm good," he said. Kevin glanced at him.

"Should we take a break?" his friend asked.

"No. Keep going."

\--

_Kevin: Mary Hatford and Nathaniel Wesninski were last seen on the night of January 19th, 1968, which was Nathaniel's 18th birthday. They were seen in the town center, allegedly accompanied by Nathan himself, presumably to celebrate the occasion - only they were never seen again. Mary's body - or what was left of it - was discovered three weeks later in the Patapsco River. Her limbs were all cut off, most of the skin on her torso was flayed off, and she was partially disemboweled. Only her face remained intact._

_Andrew: He wanted them to find her._

_Kevin: He did. He wanted them to know what happened to her. This is the only instance in which one of Nathan's victims remained...with a face._

_Andrew: How did he not get caught then? Did anyone know how to do their fucking job back then?_

_Kevin: Again, the money laundering and shady businesses. Wesninski probably had the Baltimore police in his pocket since day one._

_Andrew: Bullshit._

_Kevin: I know. It pisses me off too._

_Andrew: What about the rest of her body?_

_Kevin: Don't know._

_Andrew: And what happened to Nathaniel?_

_Kevin: His body is the only one that has never been found._

\--

His partner set aside the files with a heavy sigh, stretching out his legs and rubbing his eyes. Andrew eyed him, shining his flashlight into Kevin's face just to be annoying.

"Done with his history?" he asked. 

"Yeah," Kevin groaned. "Thank God. You know, cases aren't usually so exhausting, but this one just - it just sucks, you know."

Andrew contemplated staying silent, but his brother was watching him with an unreadable stare behind the camera, and Kevin looked genuinely upset just then. 

He nodded, murmuring a quiet, "I know."

"Aaron, we should probably cut, like, half of this out," Kevin said, waving his hand in his brother's direction. "This is too serious even for me."

"Good stuff, though," Aaron said curtly.

"Mm. Sure."

"Shall we get to the haunting stuff now?" Aaron said again. 

"When's Renee coming?"

"Couple of hours."

"Yup. Let's go." Kevin straightened up again, before sighing loudly. "I don't know, usually I'm  _not_ relieved to get into the supernatural."

"First for everything," Aaron chimed in when Andrew didn't say anything. "And...we're rolling."

\--

_Kevin: That being said, let's get into some of the many haunting incidents that have occurred in the Wesninski House._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter gets into the haunting part of the "ep" so buckle up buckaroos


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and so the spirit box returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited!! let me know if there's any glaring mistakes pls fam
> 
> but other than that hope u enjoy this chap!!

_Kevin: Like I said before, the Wesninski House is infamous not only because it used to be home to the Butcher, but also because it is probably one of the most haunted locations in all of Baltimore. Fittingly enough, after Wesninski disappeared and the rest of his family was murdered, the house was just left abandoned. It has not been lived in since the Wesninski family._

_Andrew: That's comforting._

_Kevin: Yeah. The house has been pretty defaced throughout the years, both from the elements and from the assholes who pass through here. You can find plenty of graffiti inside the basement, which coincidentally, is one of the most haunted parts of the house._

_Andrew: Why is that?_

_Kevin: Well, you know. He did all of his killing there. There's probably multiple bodies under the house too - the police just haven't found them._

_Andrew: And now we're going there._

_Kevin: Fuck._

\--

They trekked down the stairs, Aaron shining the light beyond them down the flight so their shadows looked abnormally long against the steps. Andrew took in the walls around them as Kevin let out a long breath, like he was trying to psych himself up.

The walls were considerably less ornate than the first floor. Tasteless graffiti, scrawled with fading spray paint or marker, covered a few patches of the peeling paint. Someone had written "bloody Mary" along one of the bigger cracks spanning the wall - it wasn't a very creative joke. 

"Oh, God. I hate this already," Kevin muttered when they finally reached the foot of the stairs. Andrew waited only a few moments as his friend paused before rolling his eyes and shoving Kevin off his perch. His friend squawked indignantly, shooting him a glare before the annoyance quickly fell away at the sight of the room around them.

"Jesus," Aaron breathed quietly as he stepped off the stairs, moving behind them into the darkness so he could get a shot of the entire place.

It was completely empty. No furniture, no pictures, just chipped walls covered with graffiti and drawings of crying faces. The only light came from the one Aaron had set up in the hallway, and the ground was covered in dust and remains of fallen rubble.

If Andrew closed his eyes and really put his imagination - or memory - to the test, he could picture the scene fifty years ago. The innocent victim, taken apart cruelly and methodically by the cleaver and the ax. The screams that echoed off the blank walls, dusty, worn-out white slowly being stained over and over with the spray of crimson. The hidden graves the house undoubtedly was sitting on, the  _murder_ that still hung in the air, long after the murderer was gone.

Andrew didn't believe in these kinds of ghosts. But he could certainly believe what had happened here wasn't human - it was monstrous.

It was a numbing fact, one that didn't shock terror or disgust into him like it might've done for Kevin. It only wore him down a little, knowing that people were sick creatures and sometimes demented enough to take it out on others. That knowledge wasn't usually a side effect of his job - he knew it by heart - but some cases just hammered it into his head even more.

He pursed his lips, shining his flashlight around the place. 

"So this is the most haunted part of the house," Kevin said quietly, shining his flashlight up at the creaky ceiling. "Almost everyone who came here reported witnessing or going through some sort of paranormal experience. Since, you know, this is where the Butcher made all his kills."

Andrew let his light fall on the walls. They were old and covered in cracks, stripped bare of any paint and bloodstains that could've covered them. His eyes fell on a hastily scrawled patch of words in particular, and he stepped closer to it.

"Andrew? What're you doing?" Kevin's voice echoed loudly through the room. Aaron was somewhere to the left of both of them, getting footage to use as B-roll.

"You see this?" Andrew motioned toward the words as his friend came over. Holding up his own camera to film it, he shone his light on the graffiti.

 _Big Bad Butcher took an ax,_  
_Gave his poor wife forty whacks._  
_When his son saw what he'd done,_  
_Nathan gave him forty-one._

Andrew didn't know which dumbass thought it was funny to write something like that in the room that Nathaniel and countless others very well might've died in, but he decided right there that he hated whoever did that. He hated whoever had the guts to write something so senselessly terrible over a graveyard.

And he hated most the chill that had settled in his gut, upon his spine, once he finished reading it.

Beside him, Kevin let out a quiet, shuddering breath. "Jesus fucking Christ."

"That's rough," Andrew muttered, forcing himself to speak. His partner cast him an incredulous look.

"Andrew," he said, "you could at least  _pretend_ you're slightly fucking terrified."

He wasn't. 

But Andrew wasn't in the business of lying to himself, and there was no denying that something was off about that house, about this family. About this entire case.

It wasn't just the unusual anger and quasi-sorrow that had somehow clawed out of the depths of his chest. 

It was - everything. He didn't know.

But he only looked up at his partner, noting how Kevin's green eyes looked almost black from the way the flashlight was shining on them, and said, "It's interesting. Not scary."

Kevin stared at him for a moment longer before snorting and looking away. "Asshole," he mumbled as he dug around in his bag for a moment, before pulling out the familiar device that Andrew  _so_ hated.

"Not that again," he drawled.

" _Yes_ , that again." Kevin tinkered with a few of the buttons before glancing up at Andrew. "Come on. Let's find somewhere to sit."

\--

_Kevin: People who come to the basement have reported feeling the temperature suddenly drop in a second. They've also reported feeling the sensation of someone stroking a knife across their skin. Often people also report hearing voices, the most common being a woman's voice. Many have presumed this woman's voice to be Mary Hatford's._

_Andrew: What does she say?_

_Kevin: It's always these three phrases: "Don't look back. Don't slow down. Don't trust anybody."_

_Andrew: ...That's -_

_Kevin: Terrifying? Chilling? Makes me want to shit myself then run?_

_Andrew: Do not do that in front of me._

_Kevin: (wheeze) I'll give you advanced warning. But seriously, Andrew. Just fucking imagine that. You're alone with nothing but a flashlight and some woman just whispers that in your ear. Tell me you wouldn't run._

_Andrew: I'm not a runner._

\--

They sat together in the center of the basement. Aaron had set up his light so that only their faces and half their bodies were illuminated. His brother sat a few feet away from them, hood tucked up around his shoulders to shield himself from the chill. Kevin had set the spirit box down between them, and was staring at it like he was wishing it would somehow burst into flame.

"Okay, spirits," he said after visibly gathering his wits for a few minutes. Andrew shifted into a more comfortable position as Kevin picked up the box. "We are going to try to communicate with you, so give us a sign if you are here and would like to talk to us. Three, two, one."

He flicked on the spirit box, and immediately its obnoxious radio pulses punctured the stinging silence. Andrew leaned forward, tucking his chin against his hand as he watched Kevin. 

"Is there anyone here with us?" his friend asked, glancing around. 

Nothing.

"Are you here right now, Mary?"

A minute passed, before the static broke apart with a random blip. It didn't sound like a word at all, though Kevin's eyes widened as he leaned closer. 

"Was that you?"

Nothing.

Andrew leaned over as Kevin asked his next question. 

"Is Nathaniel here?"

\--

_Andrew: So Mary is one ghost. Who are the others?_

_Kevin: Other than Mary's supposed spirit, many people have stated seeing the figure of a boy standing at the foot of the stairs. Nothing else, just the outline of a boy, like a floating shadow, if you will. When walking some people have reported hearing the sounds of footsteps running toward them, but when they turn around, no one will be there. Other times, explorers have claimed they heard Nathaniel himself. You know what he said?_

_Andrew: What?_

_Kevin: "Help me. I'm lost."_

_Andrew: ...Bullshit._

_Kevin: Their words, not mine._

_Andrew: This isn't a cheesy horror movie._

_Kevin: Maybe it's because his body was never found. I don't know._

\--

After another minute with no response, Andrew cleared his throat and picked up the spirit box. 

"Hey, ghost," he said as Kevin's expression morphed into his classic _I-want-to-die_ look. "If you're so active then why don't you show yourself?"

"Andrew, chill," Kevin muttered.

"I'm trying to get you proof, Kevin." Ignoring the way his chest ached a little at his own words, he he continued, "Nathaniel, I'm talking to you. Your life was shitty but maybe you learned a few things from your father. Go ahead and try to hurt us. Or kill me. Be creative."

Kevin groaned. "He's the son of a fucking serial killer - "

"I'll give you a minute," Andrew said, raising his voice above Kevin's protests. "Do whatever you want."

And so they waited. Kevin had put his face in his hands, having given up on trying to spare Nathaniel's supposed spirit from Andrew's attitude. All the while, the spirit box kept beeping in Andrew's hand, filling the room with obnoxious radio static and emptiness.

All the while, Andrew kept looking around the room. No shadows, no figures. Just the lonely light sitting above them, Kevin silently freaking out, and Aaron picking at his nails as he met Andrew's gaze.

The minute ended with nothing.

As expected.

"No answer?" Andrew held up the spirit box, waving it about in the air. "Coward."

His finger hovered over the off button, but suddenly the radio static warped again. It was interrupted by two short, cut-off words, spoken distantly but just loudly enough that it got caught by the radio.

_Fuck you._

"What was that?" Kevin sat up as Andrew stared at the spirit box like it'd give him answers. "That was a voice, wasn't it?"

After a long moment, Andrew dragged his gaze up to meet his friend's. Then he shrugged, even though the strange chills crawling up his back said something different -

Whatever they'd just got, it felt very, _very_ real.

And he didn't know why.

Closing his eyes, Andrew switched off the spirit box and stood up.

"Better luck next time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: EXPLORING NATHANIEL'S OLD ROOM


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew and kevin fuck around in nathaniel's bedroom. respectfully, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings! except that this bitcheloid is unedited!!
> 
> i'm truly sorry for the huge delay in updates, i'll try hard to be more regular about them but (throws up hands) the writing gods hate me

They headed up to Nathaniel's bedroom first.

Aaron backed up carefully so he could get a shot of both Andrew and Kevin as they headed up the stairs and through the creaky doorway. Shining his flashlight about, illuminating the dust motes and drab decor, Andrew let his gaze roam around.

It wasn't very big, with a bed pressed against one wall and a plain row of dressers on the opposite side. Above the dressers hung a mirror, covered in dust.

He figured the walls were once brightly painted. This was a child's old bedroom, after all. Now, they were stripped of any color. Frail cobwebs drifted off the abandoned corners of the room like wispy fingers. The bed was neatly made, the sheets tucked in and pillows left untouched. The only light came from the dimness outside, spilling languidly onto the floor as they made their way through.

Eerily, it looked both ancient and new. Like whoever had been living here had just disappeared, and no one had come in ever since. Not even the amateur explorers or urban legend enthusiasts had tried disrupting this place. 

It was almost like it could've been Nathaniel's safe little haven, away from the haunting mess that was the rest of the house.

Andrew moved closer to the bed, trailing his fingers over the sheets, when Kevin spoke.

"Found them."

He looked up to see his friend pointing at a photo frame sitting on the otherwise empty drawer. Andrew moved closer, setting his flashlight on the stand so he could pick up the picture. Dust coated his fingertips as he wiped it off the glass, gradually peeling the layers away to reveal the black-and-white photograph of the happy Wesninski family.

Only, they weren't so happy. Not Mary, not Nathaniel. Only a hint of a smile remained on Mary's face, while her husband's was all teeth - almost like a shark. Nathan's arm was looped around Nathaniel's thin shoulders. From afar, from a cursory glance, it looked like a fatherly embrace. But Andrew recognized violence when he saw it - he could see the way the older man's fingers were digging into the young boy's shoulders, so roughly his hand had become white around the knuckles. Could see the barely restrained pain in Nathaniel's wide, hollow eyes as he stared into the camera - too hollow for a boy his age. Could see the silent pleas for help, for escape, that swam in his icy eyes.

Andrew couldn't pay much attention to their actual appearances, only registering the years of pain that one unassuming cameraman had managed to capture, years of pain that remained even though all three family members were long-dead.

Kevin approached him, pointing his camera to the photo in Andrew's hands. 

"He looked just like his father," he murmured, glancing at Nathaniel's unsmiling face.

"Unfortunate." Andrew put the photograph back, unwilling to have that in his hands any longer. 

"So?" Kevin raised his eyebrows at him after a minute passed. "Should we try the spirit box again?"

"Any hauntings we should know about?" Andrew asked as he set the photo aside. His gaze lingered on their faces. 

The picture could've been evidence enough that ghosts did indeed exist. Ghosts that were pain and humanity, everything that wasn't tangible that everyone experienced in some way or the other. Some, worse than others.

Kevin cleared his throat. "Well, not a lot of people come up here. The basement's the main attraction, I'd say. This room has never been really active, not according to the accounts that I found. Just the classic random temperature drops, the occasional tug on the clothing."

"I think you'd be freaked out by that."

"Okay, fuck off." Kevin sat down on the bed, lifting up the spirit box. "You ready?"

Andrew sat down next to him, tucking his legs on the bed. He shone his flashlight down the hallway so the beam illuminated the top of the stairs, while Kevin switched the stupid spirit box back on and held it up.

"Is there anyone in here with us? Give us a sign." 

Aaron had settled against the wall, propping the camera up on one shoulder while browsing on his phone with his free hand. Andrew quirked an eyebrow at him when their eyes met, and Aaron stuck out his tongue. 

"Renee will be here soon," he mouthed, holding up his screen of texts. Andrew nodded slightly, before turning back to Kevin. 

"Looks like nothing," he said, while his friend sighed.

"Okay. My name is Kevin, and his name is Andrew," Kevin said, ignoring Andrew. "If Nathaniel or any other spirit is here, please say our names." 

They waited for a long minute. Andrew counted the pulses that passed through the box, drumming his fingers against the bed in time with them. Occasionally there would be a blip in the pulses, but never enough to form a real word - let alone a name. 

Kevin pursed his lips, switching off the box. He sat back, gazing at Andrew. 

"I still think we got  _something_ ," he insisted, "back in the basement."

"He said, 'Fuck you,'" Andrew said, getting up from the bed. A beat of silence passed between them, before Kevin groaned loudly. 

"Seriously? And you didn't tell me?"

"I deciphered it just now." He approached the same cabinet the Wesninskis' family photo was resting on again, ignoring Kevin's long string of curses (the fans seemed to really enjoy those, anyways), and shining his flashlight against the picture.

"A ghost basically just told us to fuck off."

"They're radio channels, Kevin," Andrew said, gazing at the frozen, lifeless faces trapped beneath the glass. 

He then glanced up, meeting his own gaze in the dusty mirror. Reaching out, he brushed his fingers over the surface, clicking his tongue in disgust when his fingertips came away coated in the dust. The trails he'd left in the glass showed the cracks spreading across the mirror - intricate like cobwebs.

 _Bad luck_ , Andrew thought, rubbing the dust off on his jeans.

"So what?" Kevin said. "I told you, the spirit box is good technology. You're just mean."

"It could be anything."

"Yeah, yeah." The bed creaked as Kevin got up, and Andrew glanced around. Kevin shone his light around, before it stopped on another door embedded into the wall, partially open and half-hidden by the shadows.

"There's a closet here. Creepy as fuck," Kevin commented lowly, using his foot to prod at the door. It groaned agonizingly after he touched it.

Andrew sighed, approaching Kevin. "Three minutes each?"

"Yeah. Fine.  _Fuck_ me."

“No, thank you,” Andrew drawled.

Kevin stepped back, holding up his flashlight. "Midgets first."

"It's 'ladies first,'" Andrew said, pushing open the closet, brushing off the dust. "But you and I both know you can't get them."

"He's already going for the personal attacks," Kevin said to Aaron. "Sucks for Nathaniel, being stuck alone with him."

Andrew huffed, slipping inside the closet. He waited a couple moments so Aaron could slip out the room, busying himself with setting up the camera on a nearby shelf so it'd film him. Kevin met his eyes, holding up his phone.

"Timer's set."

"Goodbye." Andrew shut the door tightly, and almost immediately, darkness enveloped him like ink. Muffled footsteps told him Kevin had left the room, so he was completely alone. 

Sighing quietly, he sat down with his back to the wall, staring up at the ceiling. 

The closet itself wasn't big. There was enough room for Andrew to stretch out, enough room for him to  _breathe_ without feeling choked. It smelled like dust - what a surprise - and emptiness. Andrew had a hard time imagining it once full of clothes and perhaps even toys.

He tucked his knees up to his chest, tapping his fingers against his thighs. He let the silence ring in his ears for a minute, getting acquainted with the space. 

"Is anyone in here with me?" he asked, tipping his head back. "Now's your chance to fuck with me."

No answer.

"Make me hear voices. Kill me. Dismember my body." Andrew raised his voice, and it echoed even in the tight space of the closet. 

Silence, again.

"Were you a daddy's boy or a mommy's boy?" Morbid amusement flickered in his chest, followed by that same scraping, haunting feeling that had latched on to him ever since Kevin had told him the history of the house. "I'll tell you a secret. I am neither."

Nothing.

Andrew figured his time was approaching its end. He reached into his pocket where he kept his spare pack of cigarettes, sticking one between his lips and cupping his hand around the end. Flicking on the lighter, he set his cigarette alight, inhaling deeply. 

"Are you lost?" he asked quietly, a plume of smoke trailing from between his lips. Andrew watched as it rose up, up, then dissipated too quickly.

Quiet.

"I'll stop talking," he said, clasping his fingers around his cigarette and taking another puff from it. "Do what you want."

Several moments later, he could hear the soft noise of a door swinging open. Then Kevin's voice, muffled beyond the door. 

"Time's up."

Andrew stood up, pushing open the door and grabbing the camera on his way out. His shoulders sagged as he welcomed the "fresh" air, and he flicked cigarette ash down at Kevin's shoes when his friend glared at him.

"Really?" Kevin remarked, staring pointedly at his cigarette.

Feigning confusion, Andrew stepped aside, sweeping his arm toward the closet like it was the most luxurious place in the world.

"Your turn, Your Highness," he deadpanned.

"Any skeletons in there?" Kevin sighed, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was trying to psych himself up. 

"I quite enjoyed being back in the closet," Andrew said flatly. His friend stopped moving, turning around and squinting at him like he wanted to throttle Andrew for the joke. Outside, Aaron snorted loudly.

"Should've known not to ask you," Kevin grumbled. "Keep the time, okay?"

Andrew grunted, taking out his phone so he could set a timer. His friend headed inside the closet after taking a few more fortifying breaths.

"Going in," he said, before shutting the door. 

Andrew let Kevin to his own devices, heading outside to join his brother by the staircase. Aaron had set the camera on the railings, looking up when he heard Andrew's approach.

"Renee will be here in five," he said, pocketing his phone.

"Okay."

Renee Walker was an anomaly. She was a priest but didn't seem like one. When she first met Kevin and Andrew, they'd been filming their 3-part [episode](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mx8JkGHaGUI) on different cases of ghosts and demons. She'd worn a modest white shirt, a cardigan, and a warm smile. The only religious thing about her seemed to be the cross dangling off her necklace.

Her advice had always been,  _don't be afraid_. Because demons could sniff out fear, or something. Andrew didn't really care for her advice - he'd never been scared of their haunted locations anyways. Her words were more for Kevin, who'd been a fizzling ball of anxiety the entire time they'd filmed that time. Yet at the end of their visit, she'd specifically stopped Andrew and called him back.

"I know you don't believe in these kinds of things, and I can understand why," she'd said. "Sometimes the horrors of the real world take prevalence over those of the spiritual."

Andrew had stared back at her silently. "Okay," he'd eventually said, when he couldn't come up with anything else. Renee smiled sweetly, clasping her hands together.

"But be careful," she'd said. "Some spirits are merely lost. They need kindness, however much you are willing to offer."

"I have none," Andrew replied, stepping back.

"Well, I think you do." Renee dipped her head respectfully, before sticking out her hand for him to shake. "You're quite interesting, Andrew. I'd like to get to know you."

Andrew had stood there, staring at her hand for a long moment. Then, he reached out and clasped it, and they shook their hands once. Renee's grin spread even wider.

"Thank you, Andrew," she'd murmured. "Good luck."

And they  _had_ kept in touch ever since. Because as much as Andrew thought Renee was strange, he also thought she was equal parts intriguing. They'd gone out for coffee multiple times while Renee told Andrew about her church, while Andrew told her about their most stupid encounters based on their spirit box. Sometimes they'd talk about their past lives, when the time felt right, and things weren't so jagged and unforgiving. Renee wasn't her birth name - Stephanie was. Andrew's last name had been Doe for the longest time.

It went back and forth like that, and it'd been almost seven months since they first met. He'd even venture to call her his friend.

Kevin was the one with the idea to bring Renee back for an episode - the finale of their season. Of course, they'd chosen the most (allegedly) haunted location for her help. 

Andrew sighed, breaking his cigarette in half and dropping it to the floor. Aaron watched as he put out the last dying embers with his foot, leaving crushed soot on the wood.

"You need to stop smoking, you know," his brother said quietly.

"I will stop when I want to stop." Andrew shrugged off his glare, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning back against the railings. Aaron rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything else.

They stood together in comfortable silence for the rest of the time, until Andrew's phone started vibrating against his thigh. He took it out, shutting off the timer.

"Your time is up, Kevin," he said loudly.

A few moments later, Kevin was hurrying out of the room, shutting the door behind him with a relieved sigh.

"Jesus Christ. I hated that."

"We should go downstairs to meet Renee," Aaron said as Kevin ran his hands through his hair.

"Yeah. Let's do that."

They all headed down the stairs, the wood creaking obnoxiously under their feet. The back of Andrew's neck prickled, and he instinctively glanced over his shoulder one more time, shining his flashlight up at the walls.

No one was there.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reverend renee arrives.
> 
> previously: andrew and kevin try to talk to nathaniel in his bedroom. nothing comes of it, as andrew had expected.
> 
> [unedited lol]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer!! the things said here regarding religion and the paranormal/afterlife are most likely INACCURATE bc author is not experienced in religion and tried her best with research but probably still made mistakes. pls don't come at me!! x if u know more about this, however, do leave a comment i'd love to learn!!

Renee's car was parked outside, half-blending in with the dullness of the otherwise empty neighborhood. The sun had already set, leaving a few lingering shreds of light in the darkening sky. She stepped out onto the pavement to greet them as they left the house, the front doors creaking obnoxiously as they closed.

"Hello! It's so good to see you all again." She was beaming as she reached out, her smile warm enough to compensate for the chilly Baltimore air. Kevin grasped her hands first. 

"Good evening, Reverend," he said. Renee rolled her eyes at Kevin's insistence on calling her by an official title, squeezing his hands before moving on to Aaron.

"Hey," Aaron greeted her curtly, balancing the camera on one shoulder as he shook her hand. Renee smiled sweetly, before finally stepping in front of Andrew.

"You look well," she observed, though Andrew knew how it translated:  _it's been a bit, how are you?_

He reached out first, palm up - his answer. _And I've been well too_. 

Renee's smile widened as she took his hand, squeezing it. Her calloused fingers rubbed against Andrew's roughened knuckles as she did so.

"So, this is the Wesninski House," she said once they'd finished their greetings, looking up and taking it all in. Her eyes twinkled with something that looked like gentle curiosity and knowledge too old for her. "I sense there's a lot that we could discuss. Shall we go inside?"

"Of course." Kevin and Aaron led the way inside, letting Andrew slip behind to catch up with Renee. She tucked the cross pendant on her necklace underneath her sweater as she met Andrew's gaze.

"I've quite missed our coffee dates," she said warmly. "Too busy with this season?"

"Very," Andrew replied. "People are demanding about their content."

"Well, how about we go out sometime next week? I'm assuming you'll be less busy then," she suggested. "We can do all the catching up then."

"Okay," he said without hesitation. He might as well have jumped with joy and given Renee a bear hug of affirmation, judging from the happiness in her expression.

It melted away into something more serious when they stepped back inside, the fading golden light of dusk turning into gloomy darkness once more. Kevin motioned for the couches in the living room while Aaron turned on the lights they'd already set up there. Renee sat down on the chair closest to the fireplace, Andrew settled next to her, and Kevin sat down across from both of them.

"Alright," she murmured, looking around. "So what's going on here?"

Andrew sat back as Kevin filled her in on the entire story - the disappearances, the murders, the hauntings. The voices, the shadows, the unresolved grief that gripped the walls and shook them silently. 

"You see, the spiritual world is a rather complex thing," Renee said carefully once he'd finished. She'd remained quiet for a couple long moments, like she was giving every arbitrarily murdered victim under their feet a moment of silence. "Spirits who have not passed on yet or are waiting to be judged exist in a Purgatory. They may appear on earth, but they no longer  _live_ on earth. Sometimes there might be unfinished business, or an unresolved sin, that might be keeping a spirit from passing over into the next life. Perhaps they want to clarify a story. It's all convoluted, something that the church itself hasn't even resolved yet."

Kevin leaned back against the cushions while Andrew played with his flashlight, flicking it on and off. "What does that mean for this house, then? Everyone here just has unfinished business?"

Renee shrugged, a kind smile on her face. "That is something only these spirits would know," she said. "Really, we as the living have no business meddling with their past lives. But it happens anyway, and if you're lucky, they may tell you."

"What is the best way to talk to them?" Andrew asked. 

"Perhaps a spiritual medium, or a communication device. I know you have a spirit box," Renee replied, meeting his eyes. "Many methods could work in theory. But you cannot force an unwilling spirit to talk." 

"We'll show you around," Kevin said, standing up. "We can go to the basement first."

\-- 

They descended the stairs, footsteps echoing through the empty heart of the house. Andrew led the way, letting his light illuminate the hallways and frail cobwebs dangling off the doorways. Renee was right behind him, though she broke off on her own to look at the cracked walls. Andrew paused as he watched her trail her fingers along the rhyme, stopping right underneath Nathan's smudged name.

She didn't say anything as Kevin and Aaron went off, probably to find someplace to film. Andrew headed up to her side as she turned around, her face solemn.

"The cruelty harbored here," she murmured, hand dropping to her side. "It's heartless." 

Andrew thought about the photograph of the Wesninski family, of Nathaniel's youth, stolen too soon, and the sharp knife-like slash of a smile across Nathan's face. Something like hatred flickered in his chest.

"It's not the world that's cruel," he said. Renee turned to gaze at him, her eyes looking almost silver in the light. "It's the people in it."

The shadows shifted, and all that reflected in the reverend's face was cold, melancholic understanding. 

"Oh, it's true, isn't it?"

Andrew wondered if he needed to say something more, as he watched her wipe the dust off her fingertips on her cardigan, lips twisted in a half-frown. But for people like them, people who had suffered senselessly - words didn't do much. They filled empty spaces but dissipated as soon as the mind slipped. They occupied the garden but wilted as soon as the season shifted, and they both knew that scars didn't go away - not in walls, not in hearts, not in the skin. Both he and Renee had their fair share of them, Andrew knew that.

They could only mourn silently, then find the strength to heal from it - arduous and painful as it was.

He backed away, letting her take her moment. Kevin and Aaron returned a few minutes later, Kevin glancing over Andrew's head (which wasn't hard at all) as he looked for Renee.

"Got anything?" he asked. 

"Well," Renee said quietly, finally turning away from the dirtied wall. "There's no demonic presence in this house, but that wasn't quite your concern in the first place."

"No," Kevin agreed, shifting his weight back and forth as he fiddled with his flashlight. "But it  _is_ supposedly one of the most haunted locations in Baltimore - maybe you could help us communicate with some spirits, while you're here."

"I can only offer advice, but I will try." She smiled, some of the warmth returning to her face, meeting them in the center of the basement. Andrew discreetly glanced at his phone - it was almost 9.

"Ghosts are worlds apart from demons," she began. Andrew noticed her cross necklace had slipped out from underneath her collar at some point - the pendant reflected tiny fractals of fragile light as it spun slowly. "They are disembodied spirits, but they are human. They may be possessing or attached to this house, like I said, because of something that is keeping them here. There is nothing we can really do to remedy that, really."

"But we can talk with them," Kevin murmured.

"Right." Andrew picked at the hem of his shirt, glancing around at their surroundings as Renee nodded. He watched the way their shadows seemed to flicker against the lone, illuminated part of the wall - they almost looked like the crooked monster under the bed. 

"The spirit box, it's more of a radio device than anything - at least that's what Andrew always tells me," Kevin said, displaying the wretched thing. "It's not true communication, I guess, but it's what we have."

"Well, with anything that has spiritual attachments, you must be very careful," Renee said. "What I tell my people is to do nothing to invite them to make any form of attachment with you. Some spirits may not be malicious, but you cannot know for sure.

"This basement here must be the most active place. There must be hundreds of attachments here. If you want to communicate with someone here you must be careful. You must be  _kind_ , but do not let them stay." For some reason her gaze landed on Andrew in the middle of her speech. "Do not let them find a home in you, lest they destroy it."

A stark silence settled over them, stagnant for only a few moments before Renee was gesturing to the stairs again. "You said before you'd gone to Nathaniel's room?"

"Yes," Kevin said.

"Take me there."

The first thing, almost predictably, Renee went to in that room was the photograph of the Wesninski family. Kevin hovered near the doorway with his back pressed against the wall, while Andrew sat down on the bed. She picked up the photo, fingers tracing the glass lightly.

"Oh," she murmured softly, thumb pausing over Nathaniel's frozen face.

"Happy family," Andrew said dryly, and Kevin shot him a dirty look. Renee turned around, eyes heavy.

"It's always harder when you put a face to the dead," she said quietly, still clutching the photo. "When lives are ended too fast, that is when things linger."

Andrew's eyes latched on to Nathaniel's, a gaze that seemed to permeate the glass and pierce the air. Kevin let out a tense breath.

"I've said this already, but many investigators that I've talked to tend to forget. These people you're trying to speak to - they're just like you or me. You must understand that perspective, and you must understand the risk too." She placed the photo back on the stand. "You may want to use objects like these - they have sentimental value, as tragic as it might be. You want to be open, like this is the first time you've seen the world. But again - "

"Be careful." Andrew finished the sentence for her, and Renee smiled at him.

"That's right."

Kevin ran a hand through his hair like he was regretting promising their fans that they'd spend the night for their finale. He took a fortifying breath, before stepping away from the wall.

"Thank you, Reverend, for coming all the way out here," he said. "God, this is going to be a great night."

Renee chuckled lightly. "Of course. It's my pleasure. I was supposed to spend a couple nights visiting family here anyway." She began following them down the stairs, before resting her hand on Kevin's shoulder. "Remember what I told you, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't be afraid."

Andrew was the last person to see her on her way out, leaving Kevin and Aaron behind to get ready for the night. He followed her out into the garden as she tucked her pendant back underneath her clothes, tying her hair up.

"Thanks, Renee," he said. She broke into a bright grin at his words. Reaching out with her palms up, she gave Andrew the option to take them or not. He did, slipping his hands into hers and letting her squeeze lightly.

"Good luck, you boys," she said warmly. "Stay out of trouble."

"I don't make promises I cannot keep."

Her eyes twinkled, bright even despite the darkness surrounding them. "I'll see you again, Andrew?"

"Yes." He slipped his hands out of hers, but didn't wipe them on himself. He didn't feel the need to. 

 She turned like she was about to leave, before pausing. "Andrew, what I said in there - about the spirits." 

Andrew didn't say anything, only tilted his head to show he was listening. Renee's shoulders sagged slightly, and she sighed. 

"I have complete faith and trust in God," she said quietly. "But sometimes I wish - I  _know_ \- there is more that I could do for those who have lost, who have  _been_ lost."

"You cannot save everyone," Andrew murmured after a long silence. He knew that Renee understood he wouldn't offer her the consolation or pity anyone else might have. But a tired smile just curved her lips, and she nodded in acknowledgement.

"Some who deserve to be saved, they aren't," she said. "We can only be kind to them after they are gone and hope it makes up for some of the cold. But we cannot invite them to stay too long - it's how we save ourselves."

"Are you having a moral crisis? Skeletons in the closet?" Andrew questioned, and it was enough to get a gentle chuckle out of her.

"Perhaps." Renee paused for a moment longer, before breaking out into a full laugh. "Thank you, Andrew."

"For what?"

"You don't know it. But you're an anchor - for many more people than just me." Renee rested a hand on Andrew's shoulder and squeezed it - she didn't seem to notice how unfair her words were. How they left Andrew silently stranded and floundering, until she caught him and brought him back. Like he was a spirit and she was kindness, except not ghostly enough that he couldn't  _stay_.

Or maybe she did know all of that.

"I'll see you, Renee," he said, forcing himself to find the words. Renee nodded, letting her hand fall into her pocket.

"Call me if you need anything. We could go out next Friday?" 

"Sure." The front doors swung open again, and Andrew glanced up to see Aaron standing in the entrance. 

"You coming or not?" he asked, his voice echoing loudly down the empty neighborhood. Renee waved at him, a gesture he returned only after a short hesitance. 

"Good night, Andrew." He echoed the sentiment, and she got into her car, rolling up the tinted windows. He only stayed out long enough to watch her pull out of the driveway and speed down the streets, headlights a stark flash of yellow in the navy darkness.

"Andrew," Aaron said again. 

"I'm coming. Christ." Shoving his hands in his pocket against the suddenly bitter cold, Andrew headed back up the stairs. His brother held the door open for him, before stepping back and letting it slam shut.

"You ready?" he asked. 

Andrew paused, glancing around the empty living room. Footsteps creaked to and fro from the hallway beside them, but he could recognize them as Kevin. Dust motes occasionally drifted in and out, aimlessly falling to the ground like ashen snow.

"Just get this over with," he finally said. 

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: nathaniel's first real words
> 
> i SINCERELY apologize for the huge gap in updates. i've been rly busy w school and other stuff that i haven't rly had the time to sit down and get writing done, but i'm not giving up on these stories!! if u like my fics pls bear with me, i'm gonna try my best to update them this month, but it might take longer. 
> 
> i love u all and thank u for reading and stickin around <3 pls leave a comment if u liked it! i'll see yall next update


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